Kim H. Aldritch
There are no bridges in folk songs,
It is raining, but I don’t believe that it is;
Does gluten even exist?
Nothings is as sexy as
An acknowledgement of the tireless,
You don’t care about the end.
Opium is not your worst addiction,
The interpretation to the king;
There is no greater challenge,
I didn’t sign up for this.
In her blue bed the virgin died;
Knowledge of another’s freedom.
Wash off the acid, put on the aquatint,
Who says dreams don’t come true?
My husband stayed out all night,
To shock ourselves into astonishment;
The sanguinary spirit of bigotry,
First we need to calm down and listen.
Recycled Poetry 